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Shane winced as his phone vibrated in his hand and he peered uncomprehendingly at it for a moment before fumbling for the “stop alarm” button that appeared on his dim (but still too bright) screen. Ugh. 4:50 was never an acceptable time in the off-season, but it was particularly unacceptable when it was Ilya’s last day at the cottage. He gave himself a minute to luxuriate in the warmth of their bed and to listen to the sound of Ilya deep asleep. He was a lump under the blankets, limbs tangled with Shane’s and an unruly mop of golden curls peeking out from the covers. Fuck. Shane loved him. He loved Shane. And he had to leave. They both had training camps to get to and captaining duties to attend to. Shane had the vague suspicion that his Mom would book him one last shoot—probably something local—and send Ilya some suggestions to pass along to his agent. It probably wouldn’t be too long until she tried to coax Ilya into dropping his Russian agent. It would be safer to have someone American, or better yet, Canadian, even if they weren’t trying to come out any time soon. They had so much to do in the lead up to the start of the preseason in September but Shane couldn’t summon any excitement for that right now. He didn’t want Ilya to go. He wished they could stay in their bubble here at the lake forever. But they couldn’t.
He slowly disentangled himself from Ilya and made his way to the bathroom. Then to the kitchen to start the coffee, then back to the bed, kneeling and regretfully rousing Ilya from his slumber. “It’s time to get up,” he whispered, gently pulling back the covers a bit and shaking Ilya’s shoulder.
“No.” He said petulantly, eyes squeezed shut.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Time is it?” He mumbled, face pressed hard into the pillow.
“5:05.”
“No. We have five hours until I need to be at the airport. Six if we are reasonable about it.”
Shane scoffed. “Right. You are never reasonable about the airport. 5 it is. Get back in bed moya lyubov, I want to hold you and then have morning blowjobs and then pancakes.”
Shane poked Ilya’s arm, ruffled his hair, shoved at his shoulder a bit. Annoyance for annoyance. “No. Get up. We have something else to do,” he insisted.
Ilya groaned and finally peeled one eye open, glaring at Shane. “What?” he asked flatly.
“It’s tradition. Come on! Coffee is ready. Go brush your teeth and everything and then meet me downstairs.” Shane stood up from the bed and looked at him expectantly.
“Hollander, you are so mean to me,” he whined even as he sat up and blinked blearily at Shane who looked completely unsympathetic.
“Am not. It’s tradition.”
“Tradition like not killing the monsters living under the dock? Or tradition like you and Yuna getting wine drunk and heckling David and I while we work on a very difficult puzzle? Or tradition like you burning terrible turkey bacon and David already having a batch cooked and kept warm because you always do that?” Ilya asked dryly.
“Hey!” said Shane petulantly, not happy to be reminded of how often he burned things in the kitchen. “Tradition like we always do this on the last morning here. And it’s your last morning, so let’s go!” He watched as Ilya dramatically huffed as he disentangled himself from the covers and finally stood up, stretching and grumbling.
“And I don’t care what my Dad said, Mom and I never get tipsy and make fun of his puzzles.”
“Right, just like you don’t refuse to eat honeydew because it made your tummy hurt when you were small and you don’t like the tool shed because your older cousin locked you in there when you were seven,” Ilya retorted skeptically as he made his way into the bathroom.
“I told you both of those things in confidence, you can’t use them against me.”
“Can.” said Ilya simply, shutting the door squarely in Shane’s frowning face. Shane sighed gustily but let it be, turning to go to the kitchen and fix both their coffees.
When Ilya made his way to the kitchen Shane was waiting at the windows clutching a bundle of soft-looking cloth to his chest with one arm and sipping from a thermos of coffee with the other hand. There was just the barest hint of blue, pre-dawn light. Shane nodded at Ilya’s coffee on the counter and said “Let’s go,” before Ilya could even get a question out. He trailed after Shane who was striding across the damp grass towards the dock, clearly on a mission. He watched with confusion as Shane deposited everything on the edge of the dock and started to take off his clothes. It was cold! Ilya would rather be in bed! Shane looked at him and gestured impatiently. “C’mon, get undressed.”
“I always want to be naked with you, Hollander, but I’d rather be in a warm bed. Save the outdoor sex for the sunshine.”
“We’re not having sex, asshole. We’re going swimming.” Shane groused with an eye roll.
“Swimming? It’s fucking cold. And dark. What is going on?”
“It’s tradition,” said Shane, finally losing patience and taking Ilya’s coffee from him and setting it down before he started tugging Ilya’s clothes off piece by piece.
“Tradition?” Ilya asked, only slightly muffled by his shirt being pulled over his head.
“Yeah,” said Shane, stilling, gaze dancing across Ilya’s face before looking back across the lake, mist settled across the still surface. “When I was little I always got really upset about leaving at the end of the summer. I always wanted to be in the water as a kid and I think I drove my parents crazy because they couldn’t get anything done. I insisted on being in the lake or exploring the shoreline all damn day and one of them had to be with me the whole time. And when it came time to leave I-I dunno I would get so overwhelmed? And sad? So my mom decided we’d make a tradition out of it. Saying goodbye to the lake right before we left.”
Ilya hummed and grabbed Shane’s hand and squeezed it tight, waiting for him to continue. “And part of it…was probably strategy? Do this early in the morning when it’s cold and everyone is tired so I wouldn’t try and stay in the lake too long and make it harder to leave. But part of it really was nice. We’d all get up and finish packing the car and Mom and Dad would drink coffee and I’d get to jump in the lake one last time and then they’d bundle me up in warm clothes and blankets in the back seat and I’d fall asleep safe and cozy instead of crying half of the way home. Anyway, I still do it now, kinda. By myself of course, but it’s nice…” Shane trailed off, suddenly embarrassed for his young self and for himself now, for doing the same.
Ilya looked at him closely and nodded. “Yes, this is a nice tradition. Made things…easier for small Shane, yes?”
“Yeah,” Shane nodded.
“And you have always done this with no clothes?” Ilya asked, teasing, eying Shane up and down.
Shane flushed and elbowed him. “Yeah? Kinda? I mean when I got older obviously I’d go alone, but everyone in my family has always believed in the importance of skinny dipping. And I guess as a really little kid I really hated clothes so I was naked half the time anyway.”
Ilya grinned, “Feel free to do the same now. I will not mind.”
Shane huffed and rolled his eyes again. “C’mon, lets go or the coffee will get cold and this will be a lot less nice.”
Without further preamble Shane dropped Ilya’s hand and took off running to the end of the dock, hurdling himself into the lake and breaking the silence as he cannonballed into the water.
Ilya took off after him almost immediately, not willing to be left behind. The cold took his breath away and he surfaced gasping, “What the fuck, Shane! It’s fucking freezing!”
Shane let out a peal of laughter “Yeah, man, that’s the fucking point.” He shook his head, sending droplets of water everywhere, “And I thought Russians didn’t get cold?” he added on, mockingly.
Ilya glared at him and lunged, dunking Shane before he could defend himself. Shane surfaced spluttering and grinning, “Come on you big baby. Let’s get you warmed up and watch the sunrise.”
And as he spoke, Ilya realized it was true. Dawn was just barely breaking, the hint of gold pushing away the fragile pre-dawn blue. He watched hungrily as Shane hauled himself out of the lake, water streaming off of him, the irresistible lines and curves of his muscles making Ilya want to bite. He looked out at the expanse of the lake one last time. He'd be back. They had time.
"Goodbye for now," he whispered, and he followed his boyfriend out of the lake.
He stood shivering on the dock. Shane retrieved the cloth, which turned out to be a pair of sinfully soft robes, and dabbed Ilya’s face dry, then gently scrunched the worst of the water from his curls before tenderly helping Ilya into the robe and tying it for him. He pressed the thermos into his hands and a cold and wet kiss to his cheek before roughly shrugging on his own robe and tying it with far less care than he had given Ilya’s.
“I love you,” he murmured, draping himself around Ilya, chest to back, his chin resting comfortably on Ilya’s shoulder. “Thank you—“ he choked out, before Ilya could respond in kind, “thank you for coming here. I-I always wanted someone to share this place with. I’m glad it was you.”
Ilya inhaled, his breath catching before he responded, “Thank you. For having me here. For being here. For—I. I love you.” Shane squeezed him hard in response, and they stood there in silence until they finished their coffee and the sun was shining, the world waking up gently on their last morning together in this little slice of paradise.